Best Gamboling Poems
Trees wear a gown of bright emerald green
Where birds are nesting in branches up high
Parents shield fledglings so they can’t be seen
Until they can spread their new wings and fly
Daffodils dance in the warm zephyr breeze
Bees buzz seeking out these pretty flowers
Yellow pollen doesn't make the bees sneeze!
They will pollinate blooms for many hours
Young lambs gamboling around in the fields
Birds fly high in the sky of azure blue
I love the spring season where nature yields
Our earth’s a stunning place for me and you
Spring brings rejuvenation to our land
The vibrant countryside looks very grand
14 lines 10 syllables per line
Checked with how many syllables*
Doesn't counted as 2 syllables
Had previously been awarded 1st place in another contest and also POTD subsequently given
n/a in Best sonnet contest
Sponsored by Laura loo
judged on 3/3/2018 9:36:00 AM
Entered into POTD Contest Sponsored By Richard Lamoureux
Poets Notes. I struggle to write sonnets I find the form extremely challenging so was delighted to get POTD in 2016 for this particular poem
08~19~16
Categories:
gamboling, beauty, daffodils, humor, nature,
Form:
Sonnet
All around our hedgerows and gardens
Buds are forming bringing brilliant
Colour into our lives where previously
Dreary winter darkness lurked.
Everywhere new life is forming
Fields are bouncing with spring lambs
Gamboling about with their friends.
Hyacinths sensational scent fills the air
I simply love this time of year
Just bursting with new life
Knowing that spring is finally here
Lightens my spirits and
Makes me smile
Nesting birds collect food for fledglings
Only pausing for tiny breaks. They are
Perfect parents who work tirelessly
Quietly and lovingly
Raising their beautiful brood who are
Soon to leave the nest
Trees become dressed in gorgeous green
Until they are fully clothed
Verdant vegetation covers the land
With new crops growing
Xanthic coloured daffodils
Yearn for spring sunshine and merrily they
Zigzag in the warm winds
02~14~15
Contest Abecedarian - Shadow Hamilton
Submitted to Abecedarian contest sponsored by Caren Krutsinger
Categories:
gamboling, daffodils, nature, spring,
Form:
Abecedarian
Oh, pretty little butterfly, flitting all around.
You can flash dance colorfully even with no sound.
Hummingbird, I see you too. You flap your wings so fast.
You super duper flapper, you are having such a blast!
Bumble bee, big bumble bee, your buzzing song is rare.
Few insects sing the way you do while dancing in the air.
Oh, katydids and crickets, I hear your soothing call.
It is the song of summer time when night begins to fall.
Oh, nights of summer I don’t want for you to pass me by
without the flicker lights I see from the firefly.
Oh, firefly so talented, no creature is like you.
Your flash dance is amazing as darkness you pass through.
Refrain:
Watch and listen, everyone,
whether beneath the moon or sun.
Nature has more skills than you may know.
Sit back a while and just enjoy the show!
Oh, deer that prance and lambs and colts gamboling in play.
I also love to hear the tunes, like the donkey’s bray,
the lowing of the cattle and the baaing of the sheep,
and even baby chicks when they go peep peep peep.
Mammals of the wild, how you howl and how you roar -
You’re a jungle orchestra that tourists can’t ignore.
Oh, birds that strut, your mating moves are so interesting
along with all the pretty songs so many of you sing.
Water’s music rushes as over rocks it goes.
Ocean laps a lullaby; with rhythm each tide flows.
Breezes make leaves dance; I sometimes hear wind croon.
Oh, birds, swirl on, and dolphins, glide and whistle your fun tune!
Refrain:
Watch and listen, everyone,
whether beneath the moon or sun.
Nature has more skills than you may know.
Sit back a while and just enjoy the show!
Categories:
gamboling, nature,
Form:
Lyric
(Re Old Poems)
A gaggle of girls lounging in the sun,
In the green grass many pairs of legs, stretched out
clad in their blue jeans.
My old pair, many memories...
In them I dug into the garden soil,
planting my spring flowers; my jeans grubby.
A girl gamboling in the rain,
water soaking into her and every pore of fibre
of her blue, old jeans.
Many moons ago, my jeans
touching his knees;
they remember the feel of his bare hands,
as he smoothly traced the lines of those blue jeans.
The hems got frayed, threads hung loose...
They'd seen better days, blotches of old paint,
colors that stayed.
Spent many autumns, growing old with me
My rough old jeans.
I looked far, into the dipping sky,
The soaring waves, breaking into foam,
Turn to the grey hills, as I spread my wings,
braving my last journey,
for the bird to be finally home.
..
Written for nette's contest 'Blue Jeans'
Categories:
gamboling, clothes, fun, garden, girl,
Form:
Free verse
Springing and bounding like a lamb
Playfully, gamboling over the ground.
Rumbles of thunder assaulting the ear
Incessant lightning, earth trembling in fear.
Nature is fickle, and inscrutably wild,
Glowing with vigor--an unruly child.
Shimmering heat waves swim and rise,
Under the blazing, noonday skies.
Mercury rising, seeking the sky.
My vision is bleary--sweat in my eyes.
Everyone wondering, “When will it end?”
Remembering winter--bring it again.
Autumn colors flaming bright
Under azure autumn light.
Tender hearts holding fast
Untold feelings from the past.
Mellow, yellow, harvest moons,
Night time bonfires, off-key tunes.
White snow blanketing fallen leaves,
Icicles forming on dripping eaves.
North wind moaning through the trees,
Temperature falling below the knees.
Eagerly waiting for robins to sing,
Readily awaiting arrival of spring.
Categories:
gamboling, life, nature, seasons, autumn,
Form:
Acrostic
Behold Beatrice, Pitcairn
the paradise sunsets lie in Tahiti
sunrise, the folly of Easter
islands, sanitoriums, deluded, denuded
limbos and purgatories, the never evermore
Polynesian metaphors transmigrate my mind
O to graze with the deer, dear
the tree never falls silently
lizards scatter, birds scurry to flight
i could never buy into falling silence
let alone fate of Galileo's descending weights
church theologians preferring an atheist Aristhrottle
forgive me for being sententious dear
no pity for Cyrano
the hidden Darcy
in another failed Benedick in port
without Dante's delusions
love with no embrace
Service, woman, a slightly tainted saint
Tennyson's wound that never heals
Petrarch, Augustine, it grows insane
ah the vicissitudes, where was i
yes, leaving metaphors and literate men
your laughter starts in those ignescent eyes
ignition, brush fires of rippling ballerinas
facial muscles lost in abandonment
to some elfish music i see, never hear
lips widening, bursting rubaiyat pandemonium
i adore your infectious risibility
it is your amatory smile i love most
demure, candles gamboling in the moonlight
i am a moth lost in the flames
of your demanding timidity
it is then i see in your eyes
the dove gracing your hands
the beast who serves your lust
this is why the Norsemen
fear nothing but women
swords once ready, berserkers, Odin
now lie silent volcanoes in my heart, Freya
the seas are without headstones
and i am wondering again terricolous
all of this are the clouds overhead
it is the heavens i see in your eyes
not the red dawn i fear
we see the jungle, its' song, inevitable war
the struggle to stand in the light
possibly besotted, erratum
the seas have long not cared
with you, i learn, heal
we are undeniably humanity
we are paradise lost
the hells of yesterday
need not rule the heavens of today
your arms gravid with red sunsets
fill my deepest hopes of all morrows
its' ultimate price is gladly paid
Miramar 94 The Patient Stones
Revised 5/22 OKC
see on Youtube
Shakespeare's Sonnet 116 Is Not What It Seems
there are certain words in here common in 19th Century literature that always remind me....besotted with Jane Austen
Categories:
gamboling, fate, history, lust, metaphor,
Form:
Romanticism
Forgotten field of forever - I knew you once . . .
in daffodil days when I wandered in wisteria ways.
Sprightly I skipped and rarely tripped.
Hope really did spring eternal then
in the spring of my strawberry youth.
Dahlia daydreams drifted often like dandelion fluff
through the corridors of my mind - a mind not yet tainted by
taxing times inevitably to come as faster and faster
I would speed along my path of life.
Like a gamboling lamb, fresh, frisky and free-spirited,
I faced my own little fun and frivolous world.
Hardly was I heedful of the woes of those
forced to fight in foreign fields across the ocean,
in a nation where peace was hardly known.
In killing fields the most innocent of citizens
were pawns of a futile war. Such things did not enter
my pre-teen mind. I was but a child.
Sachet sweet were my springs
and sassy sassafras my summers.
In back-to-school autumnal afternoons
I fled home to fields of happy play,
never with a thought given to the heartache of mothers
whose soldier sons were lost to bullets or bombs.
I sleepwalked cluelessly through a decade of war
far removed from me as I played games of pretend
with equally clueless friends.
Blissfully we skipped our ropes and chattered merrily
like monkeys in the school yard.
So innocent was I then that barely can I bring back
those sun-filled daffodil days to my recollection.
In too short time, my grand little dreams of long ago
wafted upward to a cumulus of forgetfulness.
No more do I lay myself down in grass
to look up at diamond-studded skies
or drift into slumber with visions of the visages
of my juvenile crushes while cheesy 60’s love songs
linger softly on my radio. Those faraway times are
as forgotten as the lives that vanished in Nam.
They can only belong to the forgotten field of forever.
Categories:
gamboling, childhood, war,
Form:
Free verse
Little Bo-Peep adored playing hide and seek, hence the fond nickname;
Just as hued rainbow is named for its dazzle, so radiant over every lane!
Bo-Peep was eight, and lived on a farm. She had various loves and joys.
Her world was full of magic and make believe, and she had sparkly toys.
But Bo-Peep loved more than anything, tending peaceful, fleecy sheep,
A task she'd only recently started. She loved the gamboling and leaps!
Friends Frances and Faye flew kites with Bo-Peep, in berry colors, deep;
And loved folk dancing at sunset flame, under the fuchsia sky mystique.
Familiar February had fallen fast, and yielded to fresh, fragrant flowers,
In leap years of fevered, family visits, when green bared mystic powers.
Bo-Peep lived in the house of enigma, ever hailing moments unfamiliar,
When moon and sun played hide and seek, as time turnt gold and silver.
Red robins roamed rouge, dusk skies, near the royal, Ranunculus Road;
And buttercups really brightened the rosy route, where breezes blowed.
Nature knew nothing but budding, when neighbors visited the sunlit days,
In a nectarine season of noble lives, when they followed the golden rays.
Crimson bellied birds faced ruby sunset, raining its beams like cherries;
And 'lady of the night' orchids reveled in moonlight, observed by fairies!
Elegant orchids were dressed up and dancing, along hot streets of gold,
When 'blanket flowers' draped stuff with color, prettying the dull and old.
One day Bo-Peep got lost in a daydream, as the frisky lambs wandered.
She abruptly realized they'd all gone! Like seconds eternity squandered.
No bleating or baas could be heard, and there was no sound near or far;
For, not even pink robin was heard in that moment-in a stillness bizarre!
After searching the farm in vain, Bo-Peep confessed it all to her parents,
Who were calm, wise to ways of sheep; as diamonds ken facet moments.
'Little Bo-Peep has lost her sheep,
And can't tell where to find them;
Leave them alone, And they'll come home,
Wagging their tails behind them.'
Everything was coming up roses by dawn, like burgundy sun and blooms;
And the lambs had all returned, like spring green, emerging from its tomb.
Categories:
gamboling, animal, color, fantasy, girl,
Form:
Couplet
octobre slinks forth
relinquishing heat-scorched earth ~
salacious summer
enflamed leaves embracing
dalliance with wilder winds ~
erotic fall tryst
hoary trees exposed
brazenly displayed bosom ~
scandalous winter
new bulbs gamboling
commoved carefree canoodling ~
warm sassy spring
Categories:
gamboling, autumn, seasons, spring, summer,
Form:
Haiku
'Tis often said that the best things in life are free.
Open your eyes and keen those ears and I think you would agree!
When Old Sol gilds the eastern skies then settles in the west,
We're awed by the Master's Artistry and we are truly blessed!
Note the magnificence of a rainbow arching across the sky;
In the ebon universe, the celestial bodies silently passing by.
The sight of skeins of geese winging their way to points unknown;
The sound of soughing winds through the pines so stately grown!
Dew drops on crimson roses at dawn that grace a pristine lawn;
The gamboling nigh yon copse of a graceful doe and her fawn.
Hear the laughter of little children cavorting in the park,
And the cheery song in the lea of a very contented meadow lark!
Sounds of water playing its hymn rushing o'er stones in a stream;
The sight of a majestic eagle soaring high and its clarion scream!
Mountains reaching for the sky are a magnificent sight to behold;
In the autumn, the trees all cloaked in crimson, yellow and gold!
Herds of buffalo and sleek antelope grazing on the rolling plain;
Awesome displays of lightning to be seen during a pouring rain.
There are so many things that are free, too many to really measure,
That don't cost a cent if we'd only take the time for them to treasure!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) 2015 All Rights Reserved
Categories:
gamboling, imagery, life, universe,
Form:
Rhyme
Those of us who live on farms
Aren’t immune to springtime's charms
We simply take a different view
Spring to us is mostly poo
While others trill of daffodils
And daisies blooming on the hills
We gaze upon the cattle herds
And think about those mounds of turds
As snow and ice vacate the ground
We see revealed another mound
And chickens at a steady rate
Hunt and peck and defecate
The fluffy white gamboling lambs
And piglets destined to be hams
All leave their fragrant calling cards
Throughout the meadows, fields and yards
As others rave about the birth
Of sweet green seedlings from the earth
We head out with our boots and spade
To shovel dung from out the glade
Collecting it can be a chore
But all that fragrant rich manure
Hauled from pasture, field and stable
Nourish foods that grace our table
Categories:
gamboling, farm, spring, daffodils,
Form:
Couplet
There are many and many of springs I have seen.
How many more springs to be?
While the winter wind blows and I'm freezing my toes,
spring can't come too soon for me.
The first little snowbells are raising their heads,
so small but exceedingly bold,
each playing it's part, announcing spring's start
and bravely ignoring the cold.
Wee was the hummer come sipping today
at the feeder I'd filled to the brim.
He's an early scout for all flavors about.
I am glad I was ready for him.
Tree buds are swelling and early bulbs dwelling
and stirring in their winter beds.
For spring they are yearning and the sun's brighter burning
will fast make them bring out their heads.
The sights and the sounds and scents of springtime
are appealing to all of my senses.
New lambs are let out gamboling about.
They are barely contained by the fences.
I have lived through the winter and it seems there will be
at least one more springtime for me.
I will grab it and savor, thank God for the favor
that I'm here with one more spring to see.
Categories:
gamboling, spring,
Form:
Ballad
Night and day, a thrashing
like an invisible whiptail
surge van hail,
doth swell me bosom
excruciatingly, doggedly blackmail
capriciously be-numbingly,
aggravatingly assail
mine conscience in
what paltry pale
capacity of this gamboling male,
I can "pay forward,"
whatever means shale
be moost apropos avail
to offset bewail
ling (internal psyche doth ale
hankering) against utter
lifetime (mine) peppered
with emotional, physical
and social destitution
bereft, viz fail
ling to maximize inspiration
reverberating as vibrant detail
lacking even justa minimum
desire to live
(visa vis no way
discover ring, nope nar even
"FAKE" king minuscule appeasement
of my body, mind,
and spirit triage during)
hell...shove (shelve) aside
such gloriously noble benighted role,
amidst upending folktale
re: King Arthur and His Knights
of the Round Table
futilely searching for holy grail
where steadfast conviction
emboldens this heart and hale
spirited mindful,
sincere hard drive spurs
(neigh saying horse
sense of mine)
where ambition saddled
to air (dan sing) quailing,
yen propelling (yours truly),
with sincere humanitarian,
(i.e. blood driven)
philanthropic spiritual zeal,
I tried to unveil,
this reasonably rhyming thumbnail
sketch poetically versatile
within this spurious verse despite
any trials undermining travail
rather mine heart felt genuine
motive fueled by impetus
to contribute within e kale
logi, fizzy hollow gee, humanity,
with integrity, magnanimity,
and quality fervency,
while still adept, adroit,
agile, and alert,
(cuz America needs more lerts
to become great again)
ironically steel tougher than nails,
duh pleating ability dovetail
to bug (or wug) gee wholesale.
Categories:
gamboling, 11th grade, 12th grade,
Form:
Free verse
Waterfalls here and there sprout (A)
From the bottom of the mountain (B)
Monkeys and apes are gamboling (C)
Comfortably, somewhere on the leafy soil (D)
On trees top, snacking from the wild fruit (A)
Gathered, seemed as they had a summit (A)
Somewhere wavering on the tree (E)
I were alone blatantly beside the pond (F)
On the body of the botched trunk (G)
Which were beside the spring water (H)
That flew rhythmically in the middle of the forestry (E)
Wending, looking good bye me and the place peacefully ( E)
The nugget, pebble, and the sand was seen ( I)
In the pure water lazed beneath the bottom ( J)
Little fishes were swimming dreading nothing a hook (K)
And I were not a cruel boy to show them a slash of bread (L)
To trick and eat them for my hunger and fun ( I)
Nature was delicious by itself why i did them stun (I)
I had no girlfriend but I were loved a blossomed lass (M)
She was my high school grade mate, so beautiful (N)
A shy, not seen when she talk and play (O)
With boys like me and teenagers (P)
A virgin of the south Ethiopian of that epoch’s class (M)
I were dreaming here beyond my memory mass (M)
Alemseged’s Alphabetical Rhyming Scheme style
Oh, my boyhood love had an agony of sagacity (Q)
Wishing greedily day and night losing many sleeps (R)
Being frail to say I love you snatched the aplomb (S)
Observing in heart and mind surrendered without fighting (T)
A different perspective on a dimension of beauty (Q)
A yearning of having her, an itching of victory (Q)
My childhood village, the forest, the mount, the cliff (U)
The two lakes, Abaya and Chammo, God’s bridge ( V)
They couldn’t told me how to get the bloomed aroma (W)
They couldn’t helped me how to say I love you (X)
But they whispered the song through wind that riff (U)
By Knowing my secrets, searched from my heart’s shelf (U)
Where are you now the un kissed flower of the ere (Y)
The bud and bold, the desired scent as the Mexican dahlia (Z)
I think now, the time is go on you were my potent age flare (Y)
You are my boyhood nostalgia, as of a shadow of acacia (Z)
May 29,2021
Categories:
gamboling, black african american,
Form:
Rhyme
I
one Fine-
morning when the garden was misty-
ethereal the beauty
birds mellifluous
brouhaha loud and donnybrook
a gang came
fluttering over the fence and
canoodled the flowers
sweetly
when the day was infinite serenity
the birds
lilting and murmuring
loud and donnybrook
and buzzingbees were buzzing
from jewel-toned and eye-catching blooms
oh
summer
and
the
sun-kissed
color-infused birdies
loud
and
donnybrook
II
here there
sweet butterflies
breathtaking
gamboling
delicate wings
always a-fluttering
insects
dilly-dally flip-flopping
hummingbirds whirling
a black cat licks
his lips
whiskers twitching
sneaky shifty
lissome fearless hunter
sneak-a-sneak
slithers
woosh watch out hummingbirdie
with your pretty wings
fly away fast
faster and faster
for the cat is a hunter
the cat hunts
the cat
quiet and deadly
go
dancing
hummingbird
hummingbird
turning
twirling
spinning
III
raven hair-tangled girl
gathering daisies
pansies
wildflowers
And drip-dropping petunias
in this sun-drenched garden
stops to gongoozle
and a butterfly drifts-
upon the gathered-blooms
________________________
August 15, 2016
Poetry/Free Verse/Garden Rambling
Copyright Protected, ID 16-818-665-0
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
Categories:
gamboling, poetry, writing,
Form:
Free verse